


Breadline

by thattinynerd (beautyinthenight)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:19:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautyinthenight/pseuds/thattinynerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan and Phil live in poverty - on the breadline. In a world where most people are disposable and poor, and where the government chooses everything, a war is brewing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Some people live on the breadline, poverty, whatever you want to call it. Dan and Phil are just 2 of those people. Phil’s meagre wage struggling to keep the two afloat, him working all hours just to try and make ends meet. Hard life for the two lovers.

Let’s take a look inside the flat. 2 rooms: living room/kitchen/bedroom and bathroom. Little more than a bedsit really, barely larger of most people’s sitting room for the floor space of the entire flat. No cooker, just a hob and a dodgy microwave scrounged from the tip. It’s temperamental, but it does the job most of the time. No table, just a couple of fold up ikea chairs in the middle of the room. A mattress, single-sized and shared between the pair, is propped up against the far wall. A few plants decorate the windowsill, stolen from parks, and the place is painted a pleasant cream, though it is peeling at the corners. The lovers try to make sure the place isn’t a tip, but it’s hard when they only have 4 cupboards for all of their food, clothes and other belongings.

Dan sits in the middle of this living room, back propped up on a mattress, paper and calculator in his hands. He’s trying to work out the food budget for the week for the week, after the pair had to pay the month’s rent just yesterday. They haven’t had the money for heating in weeks, and electricity and water have to be rationed. They can’t look for better deals on their tarrifs, they can’t afford internet of course. Dan sighs, shattering the peace, and looks around the empty room. Phil’s at work, making clothes in a dingy factory. A waste of his talents, everyone agrees, but there’s just no jobs anywhere. Hell, Dan knows that. He looks everywhere, there’s not even a cleaning job or even a job as a binman. He hates this, he hates that when his boyfriend comes home after 12 hours hard work that he’ll have to tell him that they only have 50p to spend on food between them for the entire week. And that there will be no electricity.

They can’t go on like this.

Phil comes home, bags under his eyes and his shoulders stooped, and Dan cooks whatever he can find in the cupboards. Rice, cheddar cheese (a day past date), left over cabbage. When it’s served, there’s only half a plate between the two, but it’s something. It’s the only food they’ve had all day, any sort of food is welcome. It’s no wonder that they both look pale and sickly, ribs showing under baggy t-shirts. Dan purposefully eats less, giving half his portion to Phil who’s so tired and hungry that he doesn’t realise - it’s 8pm now and Phil’s been up since 6, working for 12 hours and having a half hour walk either way.

Soon after they finish, Dan lowers the mattress and Phil curls up and falls asleep. There’s only one blanket, so they tend to sleep fully-clothed. Frost forming on the inside of the windows and sometimes on the wooden floor isn’t a rare occurrence. Normally Dan would follow his lover to bed, wrap his arms round the smaller man to keep him warm and safe, but not tonight. Tonight Dan knows that he has to do something to support his family of 2, not just let all of the burden be on Phil.

He creeps to the bathroom, prising up the loose floorboard and finding what he needs. This is Dan’s secret stash, the one place which has any privacy. Suggestive clothing, condoms, lube, coin purse (empty) all lie in a small box, carefully hidden. Dan’s had all of this for longer than he can remember, but then again the toil of this life has worn away his memory, he cannot remember a life before this one. He changes quickly, packs everything into the coin purse and scribbles Phil a quick note, then vanishes into the night, to lurk on dodgy street corners to try and earn a couple of quid from the well-off people in the area. He’d suggested doing this long ago, and Phil had refused to let the younger boy do anything like that to his body. But now they were desperate, and desperate measures were called for. 

On a street corner, under the glow of an orange streetlight, a dark-haired man approaches Dan, his face shrouded in darkness. A few words are exchanged between the two and they leave for a swish hotel room a mile or so away. The first of many encounters for Dan that night.

And then, when the sun rises, there is £50 in the money jar which lives behind the microwave and, although Dan is limping, he has Phil to make it better with cuddles and kisses. Phil disapproves, of course, he feels like he has failed in his duty to protect his boyfriend, but he’s not angry. He can’t deny that this means food and possibly heat as well, and he can’t say that they didn’t need that money. As long as this wasn’t a regular occurrence, as long as this only happened in desperate times until Dan found a job, he could deal with it if Dan was okay.

They cuddle on the single mattress, Dan clutching Phil close to him. Their bodies fit perfectly together, like two jigsaw pieces. In the flat next door you can hear a baby wailing and no sound of a parent calming it. The smell of cigarette smoke drifts in through the cracks in the window, meaning someone has lit up on the fire escape like every morning. The sound of the morning traffic, horns and engines, echoes through the thin walls of the building and with every breath they take, a small cloud form s in front of their face. 

Yet, despite all this, the two are happy. Phil sighs quietly, nuzzling Dan’s chest. He’d like them to marry one day, but so far all he’s managed to do is save 20p which he found on the street to put towards a ring. But despite this, the sigh wasn’t an unhappy one. As long as he was with Dan, he would be content with his life. No matter what the situation was with money, even if they ended up on the streets, he would be happy if he was with Dan. And Dan felt exactly the same way.


	2. Chapter 2

From that small flat up North, where we last left our two lovers, there was the sound of raised voices. The racket was audible throughout the apartment block, yet no one paid any attention – rows were common in this area after all. The church clock chimes 11pm dully in the distance, as the voices continue to rise. 

Inside the apartment, Dan and Phil stand on opposite sides of their tiny living room, hurling shouts of abuse at one to the other. They look just as sickly and pathetic as last time, clothes with a few more patches than before. Dan, the taller of the two, stands with years in his bloodshot eyes as they continue to scream. Just 3 hours ago, they had been as normal. But then Phil had returned home with the tragic news that his pay check had been reduced. Again. 

“Why won’t you just let me go out?” Dan yells, clenching his once tanned now almost yellow fists to release the tension beginning to build up in his veins.  
“I don’t want you getting hurt Daniel! You don’t know what those people will be like... what they might end up doing to you!” Phil replies, gritting his teeth and fighting back the tears.   
“Don’t you see Phil? We barely have enough money for rent, let alone food for two on top of that. We are going to starve.”  
“We’ll make do. I can eat less, you don’t need to sell your... services... for more food” Phil says calmly, beginning to sweat from the anger in the room.  
“You can’t eat less!” Dan shouts, almost snarling and shaking from frustration. “You’ll collapse! And why don’t you just say it? I’m a fucking prostitute and I don’t fucking care if it keeps you alive.”  
“No, I forbid it. I won’t... If you do this then we’re breaking up” Phil says after a moment, his voice quivering with fear and passion and love.

Dan stares at Phil. Phil stares at Dan. The brown-haired one of the pair cannot believe this, he loves Phil so much and all he wants is for Phil to have enough to eat, so he survives. They hardly had enough to eat between the two before the drop in Phil’s salary, now it’s barely enough for food for one with a small amount of water/electricity/heating and rent. Dan had, of course, supplemented the money before, on 3 separate occasions. But last time, a few weeks ago, Dan had returned with tears in his eyes and bleeding. And ever since, Phil had refused to let him go out and put himself through that again.

And, with shaking hands and a full-flow of tears, Dan nods at his now ex-boyfriend and begins to gather a few items of clothing into a small, torn carrier bag. Phil looks on in confusion as Dan quickly sorts through the pair’s various possessions while trying to find a blanket. All the time, Dan is trying not to cry. But, in his mind, this is for the best. This way Phil might actually have a chance of a better life, one where he can afford a real bed and decent food rather than just living off scraps and sleeping on a dirty old mattress. This way, Phil could get a decent life. And, to Dan, Phil is so beautiful that he’ll be able to find a new partner, one which could pull their own weight to pay the bills and actually keep Phil healthy and happy.

Dan says his last goodbye to Phil, who stands resolute and silent by the door as his old life leaves the flat forever. And Phil breaks down in tears on one side of the thin oak door, Dan on the other in the same condition. And then Dan slowly pads down the urine-smelling corridor, past the doors where tired mothers try and calm hungry babies and where worn-out fathers try desperately to get some sleep, down the rusty old staircase and pass the cigarette butt filled fire escape and out into the cold night air.

A small layer of frost lines the pavement, making Dan almost slip over within 3 metres of the block of flats. Picking his way more carefully now, he lifts up his feet and begins to navigate the tangled streets of the town, avoiding the alleys where the drug dealers hide and the street corners where prostitutes lurk. As hungry as Dan is, and he is hungry – his stomach is audibly growling at the smell of the hot dog stand a few streets away, his heart is breaking and he just can’t be with anyone else right now.

Sleet begins to fall from the heavens turning the world into a grey, blurry bleakness for Dan. He finds what he assumes is a safe cranny between two shops and gets his scratchy blanket from the holey carrier bag, which he then uses as a make-shift hat to try and keep some of the sludge from dripping down his face and making him even more miserable. Snuggling under the blanket, he closes his eyes and tries to imagine a nicer situation, when he’s still at home cuddling with Phil and where Phil got the pay rise he deserves rather than the stupid cut.

The bitter cold draws around Dan’s small haven of imagination, cutting his defensive wall to shreds until he’s left staring the harsh reality of his situation in the face. He is going to die out here. Nobody wants to sleep with a homeless guy, that’s well known, nobody wants someone who’s at the bottom of the heap. Of course, Dan knows where he’ll end up eventually. In one of those piles of dead bums you find in every neighbourhood, waiting to be taken to the furnace to provide fuel for the rich and privileged in society. It’s been that way for a while now, a triple-dip recession which just made the country spiral out of control. The class divide larger than ever – the poor on the streets or in grotty apartments like Phil’s, the rich in large mansions with all the comforts you could ever want.

People are starving. Disease is rife among the poorer districts where there is no medical care (forget the NHS, the funding for that was cut over a year ago now). But nobody is going to help these people, not when they provide such cheap labour and are a new source of fuel. The oil supplies dwindling, the coal almost gone, nuclear too difficult to dispose of... Dead bodies burn with a surprising amount of heat really. And there you go, two birds killed with stone: the build up of dead bodies can be disposed of, the wealthy have power for all of their technology. 

If you look around Britain, or other countries in the world, you’ll see the same problem throughout, sometimes better, sometimes worse. Follow the winding brown river (about a mile away from where Dan sleeps) past the smoking factories which torment their workers day and night, past the village of Pillsbury where only the wealthiest get to stay in large mansions which resemble Gatsby’s palace, right across the canal basin where those who have the skill can fashion boats and live on there, right to the sea where refugees from war-torn countries shelter from the sand storms whipped up by the sleet and wind. Here conditions are worse. If you fall on the wrong side of the law, you can be sent here. Here nobody technically exists, here they can kidnap you at night to supplement the generators in not enough bodies are gathered in a month. Here is much worse than where Dan is, and he knows it.

Blinking back tears, Dan says a small prayer that he doesn’t end up there. He’d rather die naturally than anything else. But he knows that what he has done, what he has done is saved Phil’s life.

And saving Phil’s life is all that matters to Dan.


	3. Chapter 3

Phil curled up on his mattress, the newspaper he had scrounged from a park bench spread open in front of him. It was over a week since Dan had left his world, and despite the fact his stomach was full, despite the fact that the heating was on, despite the fact that he ‘bed’ was less of a squeeze, he still felt rotten. His one true love, his Daniel Howell, had left him. No, Dan had sacrificed himself for Phil and Phil could never forgive himself for that fact. Dan was so good, so chivalrous, and Phil was just pathetic in comparison. 

The dim light of the candle flickers, throwing strange shadows on the black and white print of the pages in front of Phil. The paper is evidently illegal (government censorship of the papers began a good 18 months ago) because the front page headline is a an article giving advice on avoiding the ridiculous taxes. Phil sighs, stretching his arms and flicking the pages over without really concentrating, his mind still on Dan. What Dan could be doing, if Dan was still alive, when Dan had last had some food. Phil looked everywhere for his friend, even giving food and money to other homeless people just to get information from them. But there had been no word. He guessed that Dan had either already died... or had been carted off to one of the beach camps. If he was there then he was as good as dead. 

The wind howls through the lopsided window, sounding almost like a scream of terror, and the small black-haired boy leap in fright, then begins to cry. His tears hit the paper, forming black droplets running over the pictures and over the writing. The feelings fell from his eyes, letting all the pent up feelings of loss leak out of him. Long minutes pass in this state, as the cold continues to blast his back and the normal sounds of his city surround his ears. When he finally finished, he hiccupped and looked down at the paper. Only one headline and the first line of the article were still legible:

**WAR LOOMING? CAMPS EXPANDING?**

_The beach refugee camps which line our coasts are expanding at an unprecedented rate. Intelligence reports suggest that the camps now have more innocent civilians inside than foreign refugees and criminals. Furthermore, diplomatic relations with the United States are, according to reports, worsening by the second. Is this the building up of an army?_  
Phil gasps, suddenly worried that that’s where Dan is. And Dan could never survive a fight.

-

Hundreds of miles away, in the area which used to be the sandy beaches of Blackpool, Dan’s ears began to prick up. His field of vision was dark, but all around him he could hear unfamiliar noises: the scrunching of shoes under dry soil, hushed voices, the splashing of water on canvas, a gruff coughing, the squeak of polish on boots. Smells next reached him, the smell of damp and of canteen food and of petrol and of smoke. Shuffling around, he feels a scratch hessian material and then, finally, he blinks his eyes open to find three faces staring down at him.

“He’s awake!” A girl squeals, smiling happily.  
“Shush Margo.” A taller bloke says, punching her on the arm lightly.

Under the intense gaze of the three people, Dan feels all of the blood rushing to his face. Sitting up stiffly he looks around him, trembling slightly. He lies on a hessian sack covering a harsh metal table. The room is a brown canvas tent, ranging several metres in every direction. Rows of tables, similar to his, line the floor space, occupied by men sleeping, men reading, men polishing boots and some just empty. At the far end is a small, dingy looking canteen area, and all around there are sad, thin looking people. Most of them look older than Dan, in fact they all look older except the three who crowd round his bed.

In the gloomy lamp light, Dan can make out the rough features of the people in front of him. The first is the only girl, the first one to talk... Margo was her name. Her hair is red and poofy, like it hasn’t been brushed in weeks. Her eyes are a startling green and her skin unnaturally pale. The next one is the shushing boy, also with green eyes but they have more of a brown tinge and his hair is brown and curly. The final is a shorter man, with black slightly quiffed hair and a stubbly chin. In the darkness it’s difficult to make out his eye colour, making him look more menacing than the other two.

“Where... Where am I?” Dan stutters, his palms sweaty from nerves.  
“Blackpool, or whatever’s left of it! I’m Margo!” the girl replies.  
“Dan. But how am I in Blackpool?”  
“Same as me I’d suppose. I was out on the streets one minute, the next I’m here waking up to Margo’s face!” the green eyed boy answers. “I’m PJ”  
“Unless you came from abroad. I’m Toby, I’ve only ended up here because I’m an Australian refugee.” the third man suggests, his Australian accent only slightly audible.  
“Nah, I’m from the North. I must be like PJ.” Dan holds his head, it beginning to pound. “What about you, Margo?”  
“I’m a dangerous criminal!” she giggles, winking. Toby nudges her in the arm, and she continues in a slightly less cocky voice. “Well, I might have stolen some bread. And gotten away with it so I stole some more. And then some cake. And then... I got caught and sent here”  
“Oh.”

Dan got to his feet, padding slowly across the dirty ground to look out of the window. His feet were bare, and he trod on a nail causing him to curse before finally reaching the clear plastic. Looking out, as far as the eye could see, were tents right up until the ocean. One had ‘medi-tent’ plastered across the sign in large letters, another ‘arms-tent’. Groups of men ( and a few women) stood in ordered lines, saluting men in uniforms are running across the small stretch of beach with their arms swinging perfectly in time. The moonlight illuminating the scene made it look almost enchanting, and surreal at the same time.

“I don’t get it. We’re in a refugee camp, right? Where are all the harsh conditions and the death and disease?” Dan asks, biting his lip in confusion. Everybody knows the camps are bad, they’re basically death camps. 

“That’s the thing. The normal refugee camp is over there...” Toby says, pointing over to the far left where smoke billows out of a chimney and you can’t see any proper tents, just makeshift structures and the shadows of bodies litter the ground. “We all got selected from there and brought here, where, in groups, they train you up and build up your strength.”

“B...but I never went over there. I don’t remember anything between the streets and here!” Dan squeaks, suddenly scared he’s in the wrong place.  
“We know, you’re the first person to come in unconscious. That’s why we’re interested in you” Margo says solemnly, her expression stern.

“Something’s not right. We just need to figure out what.”


	4. Chapter 4

The red sun begins to rise over the Eastern coast, the light pouring in through the dirty window of Phil’s apartment in streaks. From their nests in treetops or chimneys the birds wake up, spouting their ironically joyful chorus over the slumbering city. In the warm houses of Pillsbury and the surrounding areas, the rich sleep in their large beds, safe in the knowledge that, downstairs, they have food being prepared and stockpiles to last them through any famine. On the streets, the tired people begin to wake and get to their feet. Covered in dirt and years of hardship, they begin the daily scavenge for food, work and money. The ones in the small flats and houses also are awoken by the noise. Their day starts with the long, hungry, walk to work with bags of worry under their eyes.

Phil, however, is already awake. He sits on his bed, folding clothes and stuffing them into a backpack with no care for their neatness – they were already dirty and creased anyway. He wearily takes the money he’d been saving up from the jar behind the microwave and placed it in his shoe, being careful not to rip any of the notes. Finally he throws the last of his food into the front pocket of the backpack and laces up his shoe laces, ready to leave.

Where he’s going, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he is rescuing his Dan, and nobody is going to be able to stop him.

He looks around the apartment for a moment, realising that this is the last time that he might ever see it again. He’s quit his job, stopped paying the rent, removed his livelihood all for this: to rescue the love of his life. He shoulders the backpack, and walks out of the ill-fitting door, pausing for a moment. He can hear the baby crying over the sound of the morning chorus, the sound of cars echoes through the corridor and faint chatter reaches his ears. All the annoying sounds he had grown to love, all heard for probably the last time. With a reminiscent sigh, he skips down the fire escape, where the glowing embers of the remains of cigarettes litter the ground, and out onto the gum-covered street, adventure in his eyes.

A car screeches around the corner Phil stands on, obscuring his vision for a second. When he looks again, the street looks like it did when he looked upon it for the first time, despite the fact that he has walked this stretch more times than he can count. But this is the start of a new life, and he means to go on with it. The sky turns candyfloss pink as he sets off down the same path that his lover took almost 3 weeks ago, although Phil has much more of a spring in his step compared to what Dan did. 

The city is awakening around Phil as he walks, the homeless beginning to scavenge in bins for takeaway remains from the previous night. Phil waves at them, but does not speak. He’d consulted them about Dan before, he knows they know nothing. Cafes begin to open on the roadside the further on he gets, colourful striped awnings springing out from their hidey-holes above shops, the smell of freshly baked bread wafting into his nostrils and making him sigh happily. This is his favourite time of the day, first thing, when he is wide awake and everyone and everything is still gaining consciousness. He never appreciates it as much as he should, normally being exhausted, but today he can appreciate its beauty.

He’s a good 3 miles away from home when he decides to pause for some food. Just a crust of bread, nothing more. He needs to ration it, and when he finds Dan he might need a lot of food. Sitting down and leaning his back on a phonebox, he closes his eyes and nibbles at his food contentedly. 

“Oi, you! What’re you doing here?” a voice shouts, and Phil’s eyes spring open.

-

Over in Blackpool ‘privileged’ camp (as Dan was calling it), the newly rising sun was also producing a pink sky as the backdrop over the ocean. Dan was the only one awake of his friends, sitting on the sand and letting the cool water lap at his toes. Staring out at the sea allowed him to almost imagine he wasn’t there, that instead he was at the pool with Phil. Phil couldn’t swim, but he liked the swimming pool if the shower had died at their apartment. So the two would don bathing costumes and dangle their toes in the water, and then talk about places they’d like to sail to if they could. As the years went on, the places became more and more outlandish as the real world became more and more destroyed. Eventually the moon was the closest place they could even imagine going to, everywhere else seeming to be destroyed by war, famine and natural disasters.

If he thinks hard, Dan can still remember a life before this. He remembers sitting in a hot biology classroom, wearing an itchy jumper and sitting next to his then best friend Dean, and the teacher warning that this would happen. Well, not this exactly, but that the human race was too large for the planet and some natural disaster or something would probably reduce the population very soon. Then the third dip in the recession had come, and everyone’s worst nightmares came true all at once. Global warming, resources reducing, natural disasters, war. You name it, it happened. Sources estimate that the population is now a mere 3/5 of what it once was, and it’s shrinking all the time.

There’s the sound of footsteps from behind him, and Dan is snapped back into the real world. Making his way down towards him is Toby. His eyes are so dark that Dan still cannot distinguish whether they’re dark blue, dark brown or dark green. His hair is still impeccably styled, and for a moment Dan wonders how he does it. But only for a brief moment, hair tips do not matter to him. The toil of his life so far has worn away at his soul, changing his mannerisms and thoughts. Yet somewhere buried deep inside him is a rebellious streak. It’s hidden, compressed by the pressures of his world, but it’s there. It just needs to be released. 

“Hey Dan.”  
“Alright, Toby?”  
“I’m okay, yourself?”  
“Me too.”

The pair sit in silence for a moment, before Toby speaks again. To PJ or Margo, this scene would be odd. Toby doesn’t generally begin conversations. His soul has been crushed so much more than Dan’s, he is now solemn and quiet, a shadow of a man.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asks.  
“A world... it sounds silly... but a world without all the war and suffering.”  
“That doesn’t sound silly, Daniel.”  
“They’re training us to be soldiers, aren’t they?”  
“I think so. It was like this back home.”  
“I don’t want to fight, Toby! I can’t hurt anyone.”  
“Me neither. Never again.”

A seagull squawks somewhere above the two, circling the camps in search of food. The sound of the wailing is beginning again from the other camp, cries for help and cries of suffering. Smoke starts billowing from the furnaces, bringing with it the promise that more people are dying. And Dan can’t help but worry that that is where Phil will end up. What if one of those cries was Phil’s? What if Phil had got sacked, ended up stealing and ended up at his doom? Dan didn’t know what had happened to his ex, but all he wished was that they could be together. He might be sitting next to a friend, surrounded by tents full of men, but inside his heart he feels truly alone once again.


	5. Chapter 5

As his eyes sprung open, Phil had to take in the sight before him. Standing about a foot away from where he sat was a girl with dirty blonde hair and a purple streak running through the left hand side. Her eyes were almost larger than her face proportions would allow and a smoky grey, creating what would be a beautiful effect if they weren’t heavily lined with black liner, which instead created a scary and menacing look. Compared to Phil she was very small, and even skinnier if that was physically possible, but her arms boasted toned muscle and the hard look on her face made her look much fiercer than anyone Phil could fight.

“I... I’m sorry I mean no harm!” Phil stutters, slightly in awe of the girl in front of him.  
“Tell me what you are doing here; unless you would rather I drove my knife through your chest matey?”   
“No... no... sorry. I’m looking for my boyfriend.”  
“What’s your name?” She asks after a moment’s pause, her hard exterior beginning to lighten into a softer tone.  
“Phil Lester! I don’t want any trouble, I just needed to sit down. I’ll be on my way now, I promise.”  
“Phil Lester, eh? Well... I suppose sitting ain’t illegal. If you got something to trade then you can come rest in the shelter for a bit though. My name’s Elektra.”  
“Hey Elektra. I’ve got some bread if you’d like? I need my food for my voyage however.”  
“No problem. Follow me.”

Stiffly getting to his feet and shouldering his backpack; Phil follows the peculiar girl through a narrow and dark alleyway. Above their heads hung line upon line of colourful clothes on washing lines, casting rainbow shadows on the rough ground. Humming what could be the chorus of the old favourite song Crazy Frog, Elektra skips through a narrow gap and leads Phi, through a tarpaulin door to reveal a large area, surrounded by high-rise buildings on all sides. A few shacks made of old bits of metal and fabric surround a small fire where a handful of grubby people sit talking.

“Guys I’m back!” Elektra calls, her face visibly more relaxed now she’s in familiar territory.  
“Elektra! And... who’s this El?” replies a woman of about 50-ish, with whitening hair and wrinkles on her tanned face, who stands up hug Elektra and shake Phil’s hand.  
“Phillip Lester, ma’am.”  
“Phil brought some bread, he’ll stay here until dusk.” 

As the other people look up at him, Phil lifts his legs shakily and moves to sit by the fire, taking the bread from his bag and passing it around. In total there are 6 people in the area, including himself, which seemed to age from late teens to early 50s. They all wear the same hungry frown as the people on the streets, but behind that is a glimmer of fight that Phil had never seen in anyone but Dan. It was as if their little community sheltered them from the worst of the hardships of life, allowing them to hope for a better future which wasn’t living off nothing.

“Why till dusk? I’m sure I’ll be rested before then, but thank you all the same!” Phil says after all his bread is gone.  
“Because of the Snatchers.” A voice answers from the other side of the fire, his face shrouded in smoke so Phil could not distinguish a single feature about his appearance.  
“The snatchers?”  
“This part of town” the mysterious man continues, “has the smallest population of homeless ‘cos of the snatchers. They’re police men really, they’ll kidnap you if you’re out between midday and dusk and send you straight to the furnaces. You don’t even get the privilege of a camp... some say they even burn you alive! We’re nearing some of the nicer houses ya see? They don’t want ragamuffins ‘round here.”

And suddenly the size of Phil’s mission becomes clear in his head. No longer was he walking his familiar streets, where he knew people and regulations. He was in unknown territory where anything could happen, where the rules that were played by were hugely different to those he was used to. He began to think how stupid he’d been to set off not even knowing where he was going, how he was going to get there or what he might find. Everything was new, everything was terrifying.

-

In his sticky plastic canteen seat in the crowded lunch room Dan sat pushing the gloopy food around his plate with his fork. He sat on a table with Margo, Toby and PJ but was only half listening to their conversation. He was just glum. Everyone else had devoured their food, despite the fact that the taste and texture resembled sawdust in sick, but Dan couldn’t eat more than a few mouthfuls. He had no appetite left, he’d spent so long not eating and giving as much as he could to Phil that his stomach seemed to have shrunk. He guessed his appetite would expand soon enough, but just the smell was making him feel sick.

The sound of rain beating down on the canvas roof mixed with the voices in the room around Dan, creating an incomprehensible wall of noise. Instead of focusing on the chatter he allowed his mind to drift to a possible escape plan. Everything he’d come up with so far had proved impossible – the compound was heavily guarded and there was even barbed wire in the sea so swimming round to another bay would be prevented. There was only one way in and out: through the main gates with their 24/7 security and cameras and soldiers with guns and dogs. Escape was pretty much impossible, so instead he had to sit it out and hope to get away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the camp. Waking to the sound of the sea, 3 full meals a day, unlimited water, a bed to himself, clean clothes every morning, showers and toilets (even if they did have cold water) and friends all made Dan enjoy himself. But he just needed Phil for him to be completely happy. And plus he wasn’t sure what would happen to him next. The soldiers had begun to train him up with running and weights, and Dan didn’t want to be like them. He’d rather be back on the streets than have to kill people.

“Are you eating that Dan?” Margo asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.  
“No, you can have it!” he replies with a smile.

Once they finish eating, the four make their way towards PJ and Dan’s beds. This had become their ‘hangout’ so to speak, as they had beds assigned in a corner right next to each other. Margo was in an all-girls tent (which contained just 5 of them so was just a small curtained area at the end of the arms tent) and Toby was in a tent right next to the entrance with other immigrants. They had to be there by sundown, but during the day they were free to wander as they pleased between tents. 

Toby and Margo settle themselves on PJ’s bed, so PJ scooches over and jumps on Dan’s and put his arm around him. It was common for the two to cuddle, as they both were missing loved ones. PJ’s boyfriend Chris had been left behind when PJ had been taken, and PJ was constantly trying to get back to him. It was during an escapade from the other camp that the soldiers had discovered his potential and brought him across, so inadvertently Chris had saved PJ’s life. The two mourned for their boyfriends, and in each other’s arms they found the solace and warmth they needed until they could be reunited with their loved ones.

If they could ever be reunited with them.


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of police sirens echoes through the small cavern, bouncing off the walls to create an eerie effect and making Phil feel quite glad he had been taken in by Elektra and not left to fend for himself. The fire had been extinguished an hour ago so the camp was not obvious to any planes or helicopters which could be flying overhead and to conserve fuel. From the air now the area would just look like a dumping ground for trash – nothing worth investigating. The thought of being found by the police still haunted Phil though, even though he was pretty sure Dan was in a camp he’d be no use to him stuck inside too. No, he had to be on the outside to help him escape.

The gravelly ground rubs at Phil’s back through his t-shirt as he lies on the ground with his head on a make-shift pillow of his bag. Kathy (the elderly woman) had offered him the couch in her shack but Phil had politely refused, preferring to be out where he could run if he needed to. He did trust the people he was sheltering with, but there was something about Elektra’s hard exterior and the secrecy of them all that made him feel slightly uneasy. 

Phil shuffles around to get as comfortable as he can and then allows the drowsiness that he has been fighting for the last hour to take over and lets himself to drift into an uneasy sleep. He was going to need his energy, he planned to travel that night in the hope of making up the time he’d lost today. 

The sun was only slightly lower in the sky when Phil was shaken awake by Elektra. Her sudden appearance startled Phil at first, and he jumped, clutching onto his bag as a reflex.

“Phil, we got a proposition for ya. Come, into Chris’ house.” She said, pulling him to his feet and leading him into the middle ‘house’. It was really just a makeshift structure made of what looked like driftwood on one side and a bit of old metal on the second, the third just the wall of the house behind it. Phil stepped through the scratchy carpet door and into the room which was barely larger than a bed – indeed it housed one mattress and a cardboard box. On the mattress sat a dirty man of about Phil’s age, with short brown hair and a familiar smile.

“CHRIS!” Phil shouts, walking forwards and throwing his arms around the boy on the mattress.  
“Hiya Philly boy. How’s life treating you?” Chris replies with his cocky smile.

The boy was, of course, Chris Kendall. The prankster, the idol and the friend of Phil in school. Unlike everyone else who had ended up homeless or living in places like this that Phil had met, Chris still retained all of his vitality and hope. His face was covered in dirt and muck, making the whites of his eyes stand out and illuminate his appearance. He wore a black t-shirt and trousers, stained with mud, but bizarrely he also wore red converses, just giving the look his own flair (even if they were also covered in mud). Phil had lost contact with Chris when they’d graduated, and it had been several years since they last saw each other. To Phil, seeing his friend here was a sign, a beacon of hope, Gatsby’s green light. The assurance that his quest would succeed.

With a sigh Phil begins to explain how he met the love of his life, how he lived with this love and then how he lost him. Chris remains quiet, happy to just listen. He’d had adventures of his own, of course, but those could wait till another time. While the pair talked Elektra walked back in holding a bundle of papers and a torch. The sun began to sat, casting the same firey glow over the scene as it did when it had risen that very morning, but this time it brought with it new purpose. In the morning it fuelled Phil with confidence and helped take his fear away, whereas this evening it gave him new drive to continue his mission.

“I guess I’ll be going soon.” Phil says after both had told their story.  
“Nonsense. We’re coming too.”

-

An owl hoots loudly as it soars over the tents, spreading its wings and flying in a wide circle before returning to fly back over the mainland. Apart from that bird the area is devoid of life, even the soldiers who stand guard are like statues, stone surveyors of the scene. A calm has settled over the camp, the men and women all asleep and the soldiers too resting. The inky-black sky is cloudy and the air is thick with fog, creating the affect of the camp being isolated from the rest of the world, in its own bubble.

Lying in his bed, Dan too feels exceptionally alone, suffocated by the fog and the silence and order of the room. All he wants is to be with Phil, cuddling on their smelly old mattress rather than on this hard bed which was barely more than a metal table with a bit of fabric on top. He breaths in the metallic, medical smell and longs to be sniffing the Phil’s distinctive scent, and the smell of their carpet and the fumes from the street which drift in through the window. He still has no regrets for moving out though, as long as Phil was safe then he’d put up with anything.

From the row opposite there is a large sob. For a moment Dan is worried that he has started crying from the memories, but then, listening closer, he works out that the sound is coming from the bed directly opposite his. It sounds childlike and desperate, just how Dan feels inside, and he is strangely moved by the display of emotions. Most people here just soldier on with blank faces, thankful to have been rescued from the camp next door, not caring for what happens to them as long as they are fed. They are robots, drones for the cause (whatever cause it was they are serving). Thinking hard, Dan remembers that the occupant of that bed is called Jack, and is possibly the youngest person in the tent, possibly in the entire camp.

Getting to his feet, he looks quickly left and right for guards then dashes across to the other bed. There, sure enough, lies the sandy-haired boy with his face buried in the pillow. His body looks frail, like it could be snapped in hand with just a gust of wind, and Dan feels so sorry for the pitiful boy that he reaches out and rubs the boy’s back. Immediately the sobs begin to subside, and Dan sits on the bed and pulls the kid into his arms.  
“Who are you?” Jack whispers through hiccups.  
“I’m Dan, don’t worry I’m just looking after you.” Dan answers with the same levels of quietness – if they’re caught up after hours then there could be consequences. Nobody knows what consequences yet, however, nobody is stupid enough to disobey these people who are happy to burn people alive.

“Tha...Thank you Dan. I’m Jack”  
“What’s wrong buddy?”

With another shaky sob, Jack begins his tale. It all begins many miles away, in the town of Lincoln. Jack Howard (this Jack) moved into the area’s orphanage and met a certain Dean Dobbs. They were just young then, 10 years old or so. They became inseparable best friends – the kind that everyone wants but very few actually get – constantly in each other’s company and making jokes. It didn’t matter that they weren’t the richest in society, they weren’t the poorest by a long way and their community was free from most signs of poverty, they were just happy together. They graduated high school and went on to the same 6th form, and that is when everything changed for the pair.

An aunt of Dean’s died. She was an old woman with wrinkly skin and beady black eyes whom Dean had only seen in photographs and sent oversized jumpers in the post for Christmas and got offended if she didn’t get a picture of you wearing one, so Dean wasn’t overly upset at her passing. In her will, however, she left all of her money and estate to Dean. Through much detective work, on the part of Private Investigators which Dean and his family could now afford to hire, it was discovered that the aunt had married into the Pennington family – the wealthiest in the entire country. And so Dean moved into a grand house with servants to do his every bidding, and he brought Jack with him.

Their life became perfect, days spent running around the large house and eating their way through the kitchens. Dean’s parents depended on his money to survive, so they kept out of the way and allowed the boys to run rampant. But Dean then realised that, with this money, he was a figure of status and could even work in the government. It was not fit for him to be seen with poor scum such as Jack, so he arranged one day for the police to arrest him and bring him here. And so Jack was stuck alone, with no family, no friends, no money and the knowledge that he wasn’t good enough for his best friend.

And so Dan listens and then rocks Jack back to sleep, his mind going over how harsh the rich were and wondering how anyone could throw this adorable kid out.


	7. Chapter 7

Elektra spreads a map out on the mattress. It’s old and faded and curling at the edges, making it look like a treasure map more than an old map of Britain. It’s outdated – the government banned the production of maps. Travel between areas isn’t encouraged, so why make maps? But despite the age still is accurate for the shape and main roads of the country, and Elektra had put on her own additions to make the map more relevant. Together, the three pour over the information in front of them, the candle light flickering and making the roads appear to move across the paper.

“We are here.” Elektra says, pointing to a star on the map. “And our best bet on finding Dan is here.” She continues, pointing to a small stretch of coastline.  
“Why there? They have camps on every coast and further inland too?” Phil asks, puzzled and desperate to get Dan back and go to the right place first time round.  
“Well we don’t know where he’s gone. But if he’s alive, he’s most likely to be there. A soldier who works there says there’s a second camp there, one full of fit and healthy men and women. Our best chances of finding him healthy and well is if we head off there.” Elektra says in a business-like way.

Phil feels uncomfortable. Elektra seems to have the attitude that Dan could be dead, and Phil just couldn’t believe that, no unless he saw a body at least. Chris noted that and flashed Phil a reassuring smile. And then the three began to pack what they needed. Phil kept all his things, but got more food from the stockpile the camp had. The other two packed similar rucksacks and they set off towards the outside.

“Wait!” a voice calls, and out from behind the smoke of the fire appears Kathy.  
“We’ve got to go Kathy, I am coming back one day.” Elektra says, having already explained what was happening.  
“Oh, I know that dear. I brought you these.” She passes 3 small electric torches and batteries.  
“But these... these are batteries Kathy! These are valuable!” Chris exclaims, and he is right. In the black market, one  
“Of course duck, but if you’re travelling at night you’ll want light. Take them, I’m old anyway and I like living here.” She says, making sure we’ve each got a torch and a spare battery. “Now go, don’t waste any more time waffling on to me!”

The three mutter their thanks and set off through the narrow crack and back towards the main street. Phil’s heart is beating wildly, his palms shaking and making his torchlight bounce around uncontrollably. He gets nervous each time he sets off, he gets nervous a lot, but now he’s started to think of finding Dan dead. The thought of a world without his love is like the thought of a world without the sun – dark, cold and lonely. It filled him with a dread that his search was in vain. Except he knew it wasn’t in vain. He had found Chris, he had made acquaintances (if not friends) with Elektra and had had his eyes opened to more of his world. 

As the trio cautiously makes their way through the dark streets, their ears pinned back for the sound of cops or gangs, the city goes to sleep. They pass shops with the shutters down, houses where yellow light streamed out of cracks between curtains, open windows where bedtime stories could be heard quietly being told in soft voices, restaurants where delicious smells waft into their path and, of course, the homeless population settling into blankets or getting up to start their ‘work’. They terrify Phil, not because of their profession but because they were the kind of people Dan used to have to be to earn money. When he got his Dan back he’d never let him do that kind of thing ever again.

The apartment blocks and jam-packed streets turn into cottages in pretty villages and then mansions the further they walk, until they finally hit Pillsbury – the most luxurious of all the dwellings in the North of the country. Here the mansions span several stories, each has a small army of servants and, what’s more, most are just summer houses so the rich can get away from London when they want to.

“We’ve got to be careful” Elektra whispers. “We’re toast if we’re caught”

Phil doesn’t know how Elektra knows all of this, but now is not the time to ask. Instead he creeps along behind his friends in single file, keeping to the shadows and keeping quiet. Suddenly a bright security light flickers on and an alarm sounds and the three start running at full pelt away from the noise.

A hand smothers Phil’s mouth and he’s dragged backwards into blackness.

-

“This is Jack, everyone. He can sit with us right?” Dan says, putting his arm around Jack and standing awkwardly in front of his friends at their breakfast table.  
“Yeah sure, sit down Jack!” Margo says, scooching up to make room for him next to her.

Just like that, Jack integrates into their little community. It makes Dan happy to think he’s finally done something to help since he got to this place, rather than just moping around all the time. He looks at how the others interact, observing rather than joining in, and feels an immense pleasure that he’s found people who can get by despite where they’re living. He wishes he could be that happy all the time, but he guesses it’ll just take a while to adjust.

“AHHHHH!” there’s a scream which seems to split the room’s happiness in two and creates a chill in the atmosphere, and everyone turns around. Dan jumps to his feet to see a woman with curly white-blonde hair being dragged from her seat by a soldier around twice her size.  
“You are charged with attempting to escape, and subsequently you are being transferred.” The soldier says, his voice not giving away any emotion.

3 more tough-faced men appear, brandishing large guns and pulling the woman out of the door. Crying, and wailing she is dragged through the gates and over to the camp next door, into a small room filled with other terrified people. Smoke billows out of the chimney attached to that room, obscuring the skyline with thick, black clouds. Nobody comes out of that room apart from the soldiers. The woman’s screams still linger over Dan’s campus long after they have subsided, like a ghost of the event.

“That... that was Hannah Thomas...” Margo whispers as everyone begins to sit down and start talking again. “She was lovely, a bit homesick, but a nice girl.”  
“They were making an example of her,” Toby says, his face solemn.  
“An example?” PJ asks, staring at Toby.   
“To stop any of us trying to escape. She will have been spotted last night but they must have waited so we all could see.” 

Without realising it, Dan has snuggled up into PJ from the fright of what has just happened. He doesn’t understand it, he doesn’t understand how anyone could justify killing an innocent woman who just wanted to get home. The atmosphere is more sinister than ever, the smoke from next door seeming to smother all hope and enjoyment, allowing the fear to take over everyone’s minds. The sky is dark despite the fact that it’s 8am, and there’s a rumble of thunder from over the sea. The atmosphere at the breakfast tables is subdued, and Toby’s theory seems right as nobody will dare put a toe out of line anymore.

“File in, by your beds now!” a soldier shouts and the room is thrown into panic. The last time they’d had to file in was before Dan, PJ, Jack and Margo had arrived, the only one who remembered this was Toby. That time had been when there had not been enough bodies next door, and they picked off the weakest to be used for fuel. 

Toby whispers this to the others as they make their way towards their beds. Jack almost collapses from fear, and Margo has a look of panic on her face and PJ turns white. Dan grabs Jack and PJ’s hands and they run towards their beds. Margo stares at Toby for a moment, then kisses his cheek and whispers something in his ear which could have been ‘If I don’t see you again then I have to do this’, before skipping off towards her bed. And soon everyone was in lines by their beds, hearts beating audibly, and the soldiers began to march up and down the aisles.


	8. Chapter 8

Phil’s head is pounding like a bass drum when he wakes up, and all he can see is blackness and gloom before his eyes adjust to the darkness. He’s lying on a cold, flagstone floor which is making his face freeze. The room is silent apart from the shallow breathing of himself and the two other shadowy silhouettes lying next to him who he thinks are Elektra and Chris, although he cannot be sure. Their breath forms small clouds in front of their faces, and Phil involuntarily shivers from the fear, the cold, and the uncertainty of his situation. He doesn’t know how long he’s been unconscious – there are no windows so there’s no light to help him estimate the passage of time.

Sitting up stiffly, Phil looks around. In front of him is a glass of water which he gulps eagerly despite its chill. It helps soothe his headache and nausea almost instantly. He’s still parched, but at least it’s helped somewhat. He can see 2 more glasses next to his friends (well, the other two bodies), but he won’t drink them. If they’re feeling anything like he is then he is then they’ll need the water. Phil contemplates waking them up, but he imagines they’ll be more comfortable unconscious. It’s not as if they can go anywhere right now anyway.

A door at the opposite end of the room creaks open, and Phil jumps to his feet and grabs the glass in the form of a make-shift weapon. Light momentarily streams in, then is shut out by the door being swiftly shut. A glowing candle remains, bringing enough light into the room so that Phil can tell that the bodies are definitely his friends. But the person who has entered the room’s face is still shrouded in darkness. They wear all black, so not even their gender is recognisable from their clothes, and the only thing visible is their mouth in the flickering orange light.

“Hey, put the glass down, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The figure says, in a feminine voice and slight Scottish accent.  
“Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here? Why should I trust you?” Phil asks, still holding onto the glass and shaking slightly.  
“So many questions! My name is Emma, I’m a servant here in Dobbs Manor which is your current location. Well technically you’re in the basement of the kitchens of Dobbs Manor, and we’re in Pillsbury if you didn’t already figure that out. You were walking through when you were spotted by a camera and the cops started chasing you. I knocked you and your friends out with Chloroform, and brought you in here to keep you safe. And you have no reason to trust me, apart from the fact that I could tell the master of this house and get you all killed.” She says, sitting down and placing the candle next to her.

Now her features are more obvious. Her hair is dark brown, tied in a plait down her back. She wears a simple outfit of a black dress, black tights and black canvas shoes, the standard servant gear. She keeps her head bowed in a subservient way, as if she sees Phil as her superior. She probably does, knowing the hardship servants can be put through. She has a smile on her face and her cheeks are rosy, probably from the cold, and she has a little bit of weight on her. She’s still underweight by medical standards, but compared to Phil she is much healthier. She also have a job, making her one of the more lucky in this world.

She delves into her shoulder bag and pulls out a slice of bread and a bottle of water, which she hands to Phil, then she crawls over to the other’s and gradually wakes them up. They are disgruntled and just as defensive as Phil was at first, but soon warm to Emma when she presents them with the food and drink that she has brought. There’s a sharp ring of a bell, and Emma jumps back to her feet and grabs her bag. 

“I have to go, that’s a call for me. I’ll be back soon. It’s still light out there, it will be for a few hours yet, but I’ll help you all escape when night comes.” She says, leaving the candle then skipping out of the door.

-  
You could cut the tension in the air of the camp with a knife. People are shaking, grabbing onto beds in the hope that their knees will not give way. Shallow and fast breathing, almost hyperventilation, is audible from everybody. The soldiers continue their pacing. Tap. Tap. Tap. Their footsteps sounding like thunderclaps in the silence. Dan is pale with fear, his knuckles white from the tension in his fists. He’s trying desperately not to cry, he just wants to live. Nobody here knows what they’ve done to deserve this. At last a commander steps up onto a table and stands before the crowd. There is the same event occurring in all of the other tents, causing great anticipation among everyone.

“Attention!” He barks, and all heads turn to stare at him. “We are currently experiencing a drop in fuel. Therefore some of you will be used to serve the government in a different way. We need only the strongest and fittest here. Soldiers, proceed.”

People begin to scream, some starting to run, others frozen to their places. It’s the same in each tent, and the noise almost deafens Dan. The pandemonium can be heard from miles around, but the civilians take no notice. They’re used to noise from the other camp anyway. Meanwhile, inside, soldiers are firing shots into the air in an attempt to silence the crowd, but to no avail. Everyone is petrified, everyone is desperate to survive. There is nowhere to run to, of course, they’re trapped in this tent. Dan and PJ realise that, so they don’t move. Instead they just hold hands for support and smile encouragingly at Jack who looks as if he will collapse at any moment.

“SILENCE!” the commander yells through a megaphone, silencing all tents instantaneously. “Anyone who moves from their beds without permission will be instantly terminated.”

With a silent dread, all who bolted return to their beds and stand straight up, saying silent prayers to their various deities that they will survive this day. And the pacing of the soldiers begins again, however this time they all hold guns in their hands and sport more menacing looks. Everyone’s hearts are beating so fast and loudly that it seems to create a constant drum beat in sync with the walking of the soldiers. And then they make their first choice, in Dan’s tent it’s a young boy who vomits as he pushed towards the commander. More are selected, some coming with cries, some with screams and some silently (trying to retain some dignity). There are ten gathered at the front when a soldier approaches Jack.

“NO I WON’T GO WITH YOU!” he shouts. “I’d rather be shot than burned alive!” 

He begins to struggle, fighting off the soldier and the two who approach to try and sedate him or shoot him. In the end, all Dan can do is watch as his friend his forced to his knees with a gun on his back and another two pointed at him at a distance. Jack has begun to cry, his salty tears dripping down his face and creating a small puddle in front of him. He’s trembling too, despite all his bravado and courage to fight he’s still terrified of his fate. Dan feels proud of him, as does PJ. His small act of rebellion proves that he’s a good man. They will both miss him.

The commander steps down from his table and stands in front of Jack, so all the small boy can see are his two shiny boots.


	9. Chapter 9

Hours have passed in the cold basement where Phil, Elektra and Chris sit. They remain silent for most of the time, preferring to be left to their thoughts rather than have to talk about their situation. And, of course, they don’t want their presence to be noticed. They’re in the lion’s den, being caught would be disastrous. They all tried to get some sleep at one point, curling up around each other in an awkward spoon-hug-thing to try and keep warm. The rest didn’t last long, however. It’s difficult to rest when you’re cold and nervous. Now they all sit in a circle, huddled up and trying to use the tiny stub of the candle for warmth. 

The door creaks open and Emma reappears, holding another candle. The orange glow illuminates her face and the door behind her, almost giving the impression that she has a halo. She certainly seems like an angel to the hungry people sitting on the flagstone floor, with her bag and apron pocket bulging with what they hope is food or at least water. She pads lightly across the floor and sits next to them, placing her candle on the floor and bringing another from her pocket, lighting it and setting it down to create a row of three.

Now that there is more light, it is easier to see the state of the four. Chris sports a nasty bruise on his head from standing up too quickly and hitting his forehead on the low ceiling. He had had the most sleep, therefore he seems more fidgety and anxious to leave. Phil and Elektra have bags under their bloodshot eyes, Phil’s skin is paler than ever and Elektra has a nervous twitch in her hands. She too is anxious to be away from this government official’s house, but for different reasons entirely to the others. But there’s no reason to talk about her past now, we can respect her privacy and wait until she tells her friends. Emma too looks more worn down than before. Her hair is messier, pulled down over her face, but it doesn’t quite hide the purple which is blossoming around her eye.

“I brought you all food and drink” she says hoarsely, passing a bottle and various bits of food to each of them. “You eat, and I’ll talk. I’m pretty sure you’ll need some convincing as to why you need to trust me.”

The three travellers nod at her and start eating, as she begins her story.

“My name is Emma, as you already know, and I work here. Dobbs Manor. But I’m not from a family who generally find work, my parents live on the streets. One day, 2 years ago now, I was travelling along these parts when the same thing happened to me as what did to you last night. And a worker here saved me. His name was Charlie. He brought me down here, but in the end I couldn’t go on with my journey. I... I fell in love. And Charlie helped me get employed here. I’m happy, more or less, I can help support my family, and I get to live with someone I love. And then I saw you guys and I had to help you like he helped me.”

The other three listen patiently, smiling and even (in Phil’s case – he’s a total romantic) awing in the appropriate places. When she’s done, Phil leans over and puts his arms around her, whispering his thanks in her ear. She smiles at him, and then turns to look at the others. Chris smiles warmly, but Elektra still looks unsure. She has an untrusting nature, she’s always looking out for herself and would rather be left to her own devices than have to rely on someone else. There’s a click and the pipes start to creak, and Emma seems to be shaken to her senses and starts talking.

“Anyway, that sound is Mr Dobbs taking his bath, this is the best time to get you lot away. Charlie’s driving out tonight on a supplies run. He can give you a lift to get you about 20 miles away, alright? I have your bags all packed in the van, your food and water’s been replenished. Good luck guys, we kind of need to get moving,” she says, getting to her feet.

Phil, Elektra and Chris wearily stand up, being careful of the ceiling and following Emma out of the door. As quiet and hidden as shadows, they creep up the spiralling stone staircase, through the plush, carpeted corridors which feel like clouds under their feet, past the lavishly decorated and furnished rooms, down a wooden staircase which creeks ominously and makes them jumpy, and finally into a dark concrete garage where a black van is parked. A black haired man waits in the driver’s seat, and he flashes the lights twice as a signal. Emma opens the door and helps her friends in, then whispers her goodbyes and good lucks, and shuts them in.

It’s pitch black as they bump along the roads.

-

Even from a distance you can see Jack’s deep and panicked breathing, his skinny frame rising up and pushing into the gun barrels then deflating, only to repeat again in an endless cycle. The commander stands with a fierce look in his eye, staring down at the shaking boy at his feet. He spits and brings his knee up to kick the Jack in the head. He winces, trying not to allow even more tears to fall from his eyes.

“You, boy,” he snarls, glaring down at Jack, “Are the most insolent, skinny, pathetic child I have ever seen. You should be tortured for your stupidity, for your disobedience, for your pure lack of self control. What is your name?”  
“Jack... Jack Howard sir” Jack mumbles, shaking with renewed sobs at the mention of torture. Dan’s palms go sweaty, he wants to jump in there and save his friend, but that wouldn’t do either of them any good.   
“Take him to the holding cells.” The commander barks, turning his attention away from Jack, already bored of him. “I’ll decide what to do with him later.”

Jack’s hauled up to his feet, and dragged across the tent. He’s so shaken that he cannot stand, instead he relies on the strong soldiers to pull him around. He’s white with fear, his mouth dry and his eyes bloodshot. His feet are scraped along the ground, creating a cloud of dust behind him, until he is out of sight of his tent. He’s brought to the only permanent structure in the camp, the brick building where the highest commanders sleep and where, on the top floor, there are several cells which are more like cages than anything else – just sturdy metal bars portioning areas off from the main room.

Into one of these cells Jack is thrown, and he tumbles head-over-heels until landing in a bruised pile in the far right corner. Slightly dazed, he looks around the room. There are 5 more cells in addition to his, all in a line across the southern wall. On the eastern wall is a thick and sturdy door with many locks, which Phil came in by, and on the western is the only window. From where Jack sits, all he can see out of it is the clouds of smoke coming from the chimney. He hopes that that isn’t foreshadowing for his fate. Finally on the northern wall, and directly opposite Jack’s cell, is a padded chair complete with leather restraints, several pairs of handcuffs, weapons of all types including a glass case of knives, and several metres of rope. He suddenly realises that torture is a viable option for his fate.

He shivers in the silence, starting to wonder if being burned alive would have been a less painful option.

Back in the tents everything is returning to normal. Lunch has passed in the confusion, and nobody thinks to mention it. Dinner comes around with the bell which always rings to signal dinner, and Dan, PJ, Margo and Toby all sit at their usual table. But the room is subdued with the fear of what had just happened. About 30% of the people in the camp have gone, their friends lingering on with the memories of what just happened. For those like Toby who have experienced that twice, there is the relief of a second escape but also the heartbreaking pain of using friends yet again. As for Margo, she is the only girl left in the camp. That thought terrifies her, because the next time this happens she’ll probably go. PJ and Dan are just thoroughly shaken by witnessing Jack’s fate. Toby and Margo sit with their fingers interlaced under the table, even though they have not discussed any relationship. They just sort of drifted together. 

“We should have done something,” Dan whispers, leaning in towards his friend. “It’s not fair on Jack.”  
“There’s nothing you could have done honey, they would have killed you!” Margo replies, smiling kindly at Dan.  
“I just wish I could have.”  
“We know.”

The light outside begins to dim, just like the confidence and hope of Dan. He and his friends head towards their beds, ready for an uneasy night of sleep. In Jack’s cell, he too watches the sun set and the darkness come. There are no candles or lamps in the room, and the only light comes from the moon, the stars, and the hazy orange glow which occasionally radiates from the top of the chimney. The smell of smoke and burned flesh makes him gag, and he pulls his sweat and tear stained shirt up over his nose to try and prevent him inhaling it too much. Wearily he lies down on the cold floor and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know if he’ll need his energy tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 10

It’s pitch black as the black van comes to a stop, masked in the fog making it pretty much invisible to the owls and bats which circle in the air above. The electrical noise of the security camera scanning the area disturbs the peace, but this place was chosen for a reason – no security cameras covered the area. It was just a lapse in the system, but it was a lifesaver for Phil and for countless runaway rebels before. It allowed the van to park without arousing any suspicion, as long as it moved on quickly, so the GPS tracker wouldn’t notify the manor and government of the delay (it updated every 2 minutes and 47 seconds exactly). Charlie knew all of this well, he’d helped countless people before and was instrumental in giving information to the rebel newspaper which had given Phil reasons to leave – was it a week ago? More? Less? Time didn’t seem to pass at a normal pace anymore – and find Dan. Charlie knew his situation was dangerous, but he felt that he had to help, and Emma supported him wholeheartedly, after all this rebellious streak had saved her life.

The three in the back are thrown to forwards as the van stops, and together they silently shoulder their bags and wave once at Charlie before padding across into the forested area in front of them. Every step they take results in the cracking of branches underfoot or the rustle of leaves, so they tread as lightly as possible, sticking to shadows and listening carefully for the sound of machinery to alert them to the presence of a security camera or any cars. They creep in silence for the most part, all still shaken by their dramatic rescue and how close they had been to being caught. They all knew that they couldn’t rely on the kindness of people like Emma, from now on they’d need to be even more careful.

It is an hour or so before dawn when they finally stop walking, all exhausted. They pick a shady spot under a canopy of the last few brown leaves which are sure to join the pile on the floor before long. Quietly, they sit down and start a small fire to warm their freezing fingers. Winter is properly setting in now, and Phil realises that this was not the best time to start an adventure. If it starts snowing and they have no shelter, then they are done for. Winters have become harsher and harsher, global warming kicking in and creating weird weather, snow can fall feet deep and ice will cover all roads. The time of year could be the downfall of everything.

In the ever-moving light of the fire, the three eat a morsel of bread and then begin to curl up to rest. Chris falls asleep quickly, the crackling noises soothing him and helping him forget where he is. For Phil and Elektra, however, cannot sleep. For some reason unconsciousness will not take them, so they lie mostly still until Elektra flips over, alerting Phil to her being awake. He sits up, and she copies, and they stare at each other for a moment, before Phil breaks the silence.

“Why are you helping me, Elektra?” he asks, scratching his nose awkwardly.  
“Do I need a reason?” She replies, raising her eyebrows and scowling slightly.   
“No, but I’ve been on this Earth for a long time. People generally don’t do things without having a reason to do so, especially not leave their safe homes into a dangerous world all for a stranger” he replies, smiling to show he doesn’t mean to offend her.  
“Hm, fair enough. I have no love for the government, and I needed some adventure. Why not combine the two?” she gets out a cigarette as she speaks, lighting it with the fire and inhaling slowly.  
“Who does have love for the government nowadays Elektra? That’s not a proper reason.”  
“I have more reason than most.”  
“Care to divulge? It’s a cold night, it’s just me listening.”   
Elektra pauses for a moment, before replying “I see no harm in it.”

In the glow of the embers from the fire, she tells her story to Phil. Her real name is Eleanor KTR8 West, the middle name a serial number. A serial number because she was born in a government lab, and brought up as a test guinea pig for various – well she doesn’t know. Elektra was born with the amazing ability to repress unwanted memories, and in any case she was never told what was happening. She escaped when she was 10, changing her name as Eleanor was too much of a reminder of her past, and only taking with her faint memories and the purple streak in her bright blonde hair – a result of some chemical in the labs.

“Wow, okay, you have reason to hate them” Phil says when she is done. “What happened next?”   
“I’m not going into specifics. I never tell anyone my entire life story, it’s far too dangerous. You will never know the full me. Goodnight, Phil”

More confused than ever, Phil lies back down, wondering what other secrets Elektra might be hiding.

-

Dawn comes, and Dan awakes with the gnawing in his heart when he remembers the events of the previous day. He wearily gets to his feet, wandering over to the window to discover that the sun is still low in the sky, making the clouds a yellowy-orange colour, making the sky look like it’s on fire. And Dan’s head is on fire too, a dull, throbbing ache which makes him feel almost dizzy. He considers going back to bed for a moment, before realising that he won’t sleep, not when he knows where Jack is. Everyone around him is still asleep, curled up in tight balls or sprawled out, their minds taking them far away to much more pleasant places. Sleep allows you to forget your predicament, sleep sets you free. But Dan can’t find freedom for his friend in his dreams, so he decides to do something to help Jack instead.

Padding slowly across the room, Dan holds his breath as he passes the sleeping soldier who guards the door, then slips out. It’s only when he’s on the gravelly ground that he realises he’s still in his bare feet and the scruffy tank top and camouflage pants – his pyjamas. He looks bizarre, the top showing off his new muscles, gained from the training he had begun, yet the bare feet and messy hair making him look like a child playing dress up. He creeps across, past the tents full of sleeping people, and pauses behind the shower block. He’s aware that he should have stayed in bed, that he would be punished for this if he was caught, but he just wants to see if he can do anything for Jack.

From his hiding place, Dan can see in through the side window into brick building where soldiers sit with cups of coffee to keep them up through the door. There’s a commander sitting at the main desk, his feet on top of a table, reclining into the comfy leather chair and reading a set of papers. Dan can’t read them from here, but the front is just plain, no markings at all. Dan’s desperate to read them, but there isn’t a way to read over the man’s shoulder – there’s not a window at the back, only a door which would make Dan far too visible for his liking. 

A truck screeches in through the main gate, making Dan jump, and is checked by a swarm of soldiers before a man exits. He wears a black suit, but sports military medals – a senior officer from the government or a veteran. The soldiers salute, and he strides confidently into the office. He has the air of authority which no one else has in the camp. The commander leaps to attention on his entrance, and the pair talk for a while, Dan straining his ears but not being able to hear a thing. And then they stop, the newcomer returning to his truck and leaving, the commander placing the papers in a safe and then heading up the stairs to where (unknown to Dan) Jack lies asleep. In Dan’s mind, there are only 3 reasons why you would lock up papers: they are dangerous, they are precious to the owner or they are confidential, and all these reasons make Dan want to read them. But the sun is rising properly, and Dan creeps back to his bed, ready to be woken with the rest of the campers.

Upstairs, Jack has slept through all of this, and is abruptly woken up by the commander rattling the bars of his cell, like he’s an unresponsive animal in a zoo. Jack looks up but doesn’t move, his body stiff with sleep and hunger and worry. His eyes open wide, Jack sits in silence, ready to find out what’s going to happen.

“Boy, what is your name?” the commander snarls, scowling at Jack.  
“Jack, Jack Howard sir” Jack stammers, shaking.  
“Mr Howard, my most gracious apologies, it appears there has been a mistake.” The commander says, with only a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Jack just stares, waiting for an explanation. “We have orders here, from classified sources, that you are not to be harmed. We’ll have someone up to look at you in a moment, make sure that you’re healthy. Again, apologies.”

The commander struts out, scowling slightly at being made a fool of, leaving Jack to wonder what the hell just happened to him.


	11. Chapter 11

Phil, Elektra and Chris were on the move again. The sun hadn’t even begun to set when they had awoken and, groggy but keen to get moving again while there was still sunlight, they had clambered to their feet, being to walk again. Phil was staggered at the stamina that he had gained since he began his trip, this amount of walking would have killed him before, but now he seemed to been eating slightly more and his health and fitness were improving. It was doing him good. The three travelled mile after mile, and the weather stayed fair, albeit with a chill to it, and the path lead through woods, providing protection from any spying helicopters above them.

They paused only once, for a quick loo break (not that there were any toilets to use) and to get out a tin of ham to split between them whilst they walked. They still have no idea where they’re going, how long it will take or if there will be another opportunity to get food, so all efforts are made to conserve the non-perishables. To be honest, they’re all used to it. They all have been properly starving before, and at least they now knew where their next meal would come from. The crunch of the leaves under their feet and the taste of the meat raised their spirits, and this area was pleasant to walk through, though tiring as tree roots often had to be clambered over.

It’s about 2 hours after the sun had set, as the coverage of branches and leaves begins to thin, as the main road and the end of the forest is visible to Elektra (who had the keenest eyesight), then Chris, and finally Phil. This marks the end of their nice trek through the sheltered woodland, now they have to brave open fields, roads, towns and they really don’t know what else. Their detour into Dobbs Manor has disorientated them, making the map pretty much useless. The decision is taken to rest until the next night comes, so they have enough energy to run if necessary, and they settle down behind a large oak tree and sleep.

An owl hoots and Elektra wakes up with a start, covered in a thick blanket of white.  
“SHIT SNOW GUYS GET UP!” she shouts, struggling to shift the weight of the snow from her freezing body. Once she’s on her feet she begins to tug Chris out of the ground, though her stiff limbs prevent her from using her full strength to help him. Phil too stumbles up, out of the snow, shivering like mad.

“We’re going to have to move on, aren’t we?” Chris asks, once he too is cleared of the cold, deadly powder.  
“It’s the only way we’ll be able to keep warm.” Elektra replies, a hint of apprehension in her voice. 

They pull the spear sweaters and blankets from their backpacks, wrapping up in as many layers as possible, and eat a more substantial meal than before, they know they’ll need the energy, and then set about trying to find any dry wood to carry with them for their next fire. There isn’t much, most already having been caught in the blizzard, but some still remains, hidden under piles of leaves or in holes between tree roots. The bitter cold which seems to have just arisen overnight chills the three to their bones, and they find standing still painful, as the weather gets colder and colder still. They’re lucky that Elektra woke up, or they would never have risen from their frozen beds.

Finally all the wood that they can find is loaded into their packs, and the journey begins once more. Elektra and Chris cross the road, picking their way carefully between the patches of ice which threaten to deliver them to the floor at any moment whilst Phil makes sure that everything is packed. He watches until his friends are out of sight, as the snow begins to fall once more.

Its effect is instantaneous. Phil suddenly feels isolated from his friends, his shouts just echoing back to him. It’s like the snow has formed a barrier between him and the rest of the world, and even as he crosses the road it’s deadly silence. He doesn’t register the blazing eye-like yellow headlamps until he feels the cold, metal body of the truck hit into his side. He feels himself fly up into the air, there’s a loud, ear-splitting crack.  
And Phil’s cut off from everything once more.

-

When Jack wakes up, he’s back in his bed, opposite Dan. It’s still dark, but he doesn’t know if he’s slept for long or not, all passage of time has been scrambled in his head, like when the old-fashioned televisions used to just have static. Few people have TVs now, of course, and those who do opt for 3D. Why not, if you have all the money in the world? He doesn’t even remember if he fell asleep of his own accord or if he was knocked out. In reality it is the night after his visit from the commander, but to Jack that seems like a lifetime ago. But that’s not the most confusing matter to him right now. All around him people are sleeping, their chests rising and falling steadily and making the blankets flutter, like a sea of grey, each blanket a wave. It’s cold too, each breath forming in front of people’s faces like little clouds of smoke. To Jack, used to the solitude of the last few days, it looks peaceful.

His mind, however, is anything but peaceful. It’s a whirl of confusion, he’d been saved from goodness knows what by... well he didn’t know who. He liked to think that it might be Dean, but life had taught him that hopes just made you disappointed when they came to nothing. No, it was far more likely that there had been some kind of mix up, after all Jack was not an uncommon name and Howard wasn’t either, and soon enough he’d be hauled back up to his cell. But for the meantime he is content to be back with his friends. 

If it was Dean then it wasn’t exactly good news either. If Dean really cared, if Dean really felt the same way that Jack felt about him then surely Dean would get him out of this place and admit his mistake instead of just making sure he didn’t die. Then they could be together again. No, it was less painful to think of his release as a mix up, because it otherwise proved that Dean didn’t care enough, and that thought tore Jack to pieces. It was just easier to assume that there had been a mistake. Jack didn’t want his heart broken any more than it already was.

Unknown to Jack, Dan is also awake. His thoughts drift to Phil, and his stomach turns with guilt that he didn’t think of him more. Was he still in love with the pale skinned, ebony haired boy? Absolutely. He’d walked out for Phil’s own good, and all he could hope now was that Phil was still safe. But he longed to hold his skinny frame and bury his head in the black messy hair and cuddle. That would keep the nightmares and worries away: that would make him happy again. But instead he was stuck in this drafty tent, all alone. The chill reminded him of his old apartment, the howling of the wind like when it would rush through the broken window panes. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine that he was still there with his beautiful boyfriend. Then again, he didn’t even know if Phil had moved on, after all it can’t have been hard. Phil was gorgeous, no doubt about it, and if he had a bit more food then he’d glow. Maybe he’d found someone else by now.

PJ too is thinking of his lost love one, Chris, though he is dreaming rather than being kept awake by his thoughs. He doesn’t mention him much to the others, but he is all that occupies his mind. Chris Kendall, the boy who made him laugh, the boy who had protected him, the boy who he had fallen in love with, the boy who had only been saved from this because he was trying to find food. And that was a constant worry for PJ. What if Chris had thought he’d ran away because he couldn’t find the words to break up? That wasn’t the case, he didn’t want to leave him behind at all! Chris was always so hopeful, and if PJ had destroyed his hope by being abducted... Well that might kill him if he ever found out.

The night passes, and Jack and Dan don’t manage to get any sleep. So quietly that they don’t even notice, signs are put up around the tent with the title: ‘training cancelled, adverse weather making fighting impossible’. A soft thudding begins as the sun rises, and the ground becomes covered with the same thing which doomed Elektra, Chris and Phil: snow.


End file.
